Who Knows How Long I've Loved You
by Leah Holmes
Summary: Paul's reaction to John's death. McLennon. (NOT ATU)


**A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles.**

Paul let the newspaper fall through his fingers onto the stone path that lead up to his farmhouse. He couldn't believe it, this couldn't have happened. His head buzzed and suddenly felt light-headed, he needed to sit down. Falling into a bed of bright, happy flowers, Paul dragged his knees to his chest.

"_Come on, you prick!" Paul called behind him, laughing manically. He leaned over a ledge and peered down at the traffic below. The cars were rushing by, their horns squeaking and owners yelling. Pedestrians patiently waited to cross, or waved down one of the millions of taxis milling about. A hot dog vender was making quite a living on the busy streetcorner where the posh and prestigious Plaza Hotel sat. Oh, how he loved the insanity of New York._

"_I'm coming," John said shortly. John was taking his time following his friend; the guitarist didn't see what was so special about going up to the roof. They all pretty much looked the same, just a flat surface with a few chimneys or pipes poking out. _

_Paul jumped up onto the edge of a concrete vent type thing and spread his arms out wide. The wind blew through his hair and sent it flying in all directions. John walked up, taking his sweet time, and hopped on behind his friend. The bassist glanced over to the boy and smiled. _

_John wrapped his arms around Paul's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder, burying his face into the warm leather jacket. Taking in his clean scent, John said, "I love you, Paulie."_

"_I love you more, Johnny," Paul sighed as he awkwardly bent his neck to kiss his lover. _

A sharp sob erupted from deep inside of him. The bassist drew in his head to rest on the top of his knees and just sat there, crying slightly. The tears trickled down his cheeks like a gentle rain shower. This wasn't how it was supposed to end; they had talked about this. They had a plan, a full-proof plan. They promised to leave together.

"_When you die, take me with you," John softly requested as he caressed Paul's cheekbones. "I can't bear to live a minute without you."_

_Paul blushed, flattered at his lover's wish yet saddened at the same time. He hadn't thought about life without John, and frankly, it pained him to do so. "I will, if I can. But only if you do the same for me."_

"_I promise, love," John cooed. He nuzzled into the crook of Paul's neck and pecked the hollow lightly. "I'll tell the big man upstairs that I'm only coming if you can, too. If he doesn't comply, then I'll refuse to go."_

"_Sounds good," Paul said while toying with the short, stubby hairs on the back of the guitarist's head. "If I go first, then I'll politely try to bargain your departure, too."_

"_Good luck with that," John rolled his eyes and leaned upwards to kiss Paul's lips. "You have to be assertive; it's the key to getting what you want."_

"_Really, now?" Paul laughed, his fingers gliding across the other boy's features. He stroked John's soft skin and left a trail of kisses behind. _

"_Really," John answered, his breaths getting shorter and shallower. "How do you think I got you?"_

Linda was yelling for him. Her sweet, smooth voice swam through the peaceful and quiet air of their Scottish farm. Paul ignored her and crawled deeper into the bushes. He needed to be alone. The two boys had created so many dreams, and almost none got to come true.

"_I want to get married someday," Paul dreamily said. He and John were tangled in the crisp sheets of the hotel, their feet knotted and their limbs intertwined and lay in knots. A thin sheen of sweat covered the pair and their eyes had started to become heavy with sleep. _

_John shifted his weight and tucked McCartney's head under his own. "To who?"_

"_Anybody." _

"_Me?" John asked. _

_Paul rolled over to face his lover and pressed his forehead to John's. "Yes."_

_Lennon closed the gap and brushed his lips against Paul's. "Let's do it."_

"_Okay," Paul agreed. "Then, we can go adopt some kids. How many do you want?"_

_His partner mulled this over for a few seconds, his finger tapping his chin. "Four, two boys and two girls."_

"_Gear. I want four, too," McCartney admitted. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon and it gave the bedroom a slight pinkish tint. "What should we name them?"_

"_Well, I already have Julian, so we can cross that off."_

"_How about Camille?" Paul suggested as he tugged on a lock of John's brown hair. _

_John smiled and nodded. "That's a pretty name. I like Sebastian, it's different."_

"_Yeah, I love it. What do you think of the name Molly? It's plain, but it's not at the same time."_

"_It is. Add that one to the list. One more boy name. What about Declan? It's uncommon."_

_Paul kissed his lover and whispered "I love it." _

Heather and Stella were calling for him now along with their mother. Paul sunk farther into the greenery and curled into the fetal position. Suddenly, he felt scared and lonely, like his protection from the worries and frustrations of life had melted away. In a sense, it had.

"_Ignore them, Macca," John growled. "They can't hurt you."_

_In the schoolyard, the other students were staring at the pair of musicians. The giggles that bubbled from their stomachs and the stream of almost silent chatter were enough to make Paul want to crawl in a hole and die. But John was with him, and nobody dared to bother John Lennon unless they fancied a trip to the hospital. _

"_Off to go attempt to ask out Emily Crane again, McCartney?" a pudgy, round kid shouted from the steps of the main building. "It's pointless, she doesn't even-"_

_He didn't get to finish his sentence. John threw a wicked, hard punch straight to the guy's jaw with a pop. The idiot boy fell to the ground, then he tried to push himself back up. Paul stood in awe of his friend; he wished he could do something like that._

_The kid propped his large body up on his elbows and glared at John in the eye. "You, bastard. Nobod-"_

_John kicked him in the gut and spat, "Shut up, I don't give a flying fuck about whatever you were about to say." _

_He turned to Paul and grabbed him roughly by the wrist. "Come on before I have to whip somebody else's ass." _

Paul shuddered as he remembered when everything fell apart. The wounds opened up again and a rush of new emotions flooded his system. He knew it wasn't his fault what had happened, it was just fate. Well, that and maybe a bit of help from Yoko Ono. The sobs shook his whole body as the memories crept back.

_It was the end of the day, George and Ringo had already departed for their homes and families. Paul had stayed behind to clean up a few vocal tracks before going over to his house to freshen up for a date with John, who had hung around just to keep his lover company._

"_Paul, I met this amazing woman a few months ago at an art gallery," John said as he stared at the blank wall. "I'm meeting her tonight for dinner. She wants to tell me about this new idea-"_

_Paul raised his eyebrow and cut off the man "I thought we were going out tonight."_

_A look of horror and shock crossed Lennon's face. "Well, can we reschedule? I'll take out somewhere tomorrow, I promise."_

"_But my birthday is today. Can't you just cancel with the artist?" Paul pleaded. He was annoyed that his partner had made plans with somebody else. Jealousy clouded his mind and anger wrapped around it like a Christmas present. _

_John shook his head furiously. "No, no, she's really busy."_

_McCartney wanted to slap him. Whatever happened to boyfriends first? And on his bloody birthday at that! "Are we really having this argument? Since when don't you want me anymore? Since when did I take second place?"_

_Lennon shot up, his eyes turning black. "Paul, you know I love you-"_

"_Then cancel, " he demanded. "I'm being assertive, just like you said I should."_

"_No. You can wait another night," John spat back. "I know that patience isn't really your thing, but we all can improve in that department."_

"_What happened to you, John?" Paul asked, the tears starting to form in his eyes. "You've changed…"_

"_I bloody well have changed," John said. "And I'm proud of what I've become."_

"_You're proud that you've let your dedicated partner, your true love, slip out of your top spot in the priorities list?"_

_Lennon strutted over to Paul. "No, I'm proud that I can create my own self and I don't need your approval to do so."_

_Paul threw his hands in the air and walked out of the room. Shouting behind him, he yelled "That's it, we're over, you son of a bitch! Have fun on your fucking date!" _

"_You know I will!" John yelled back._

But he was gone, and he wasn't coming back. There was no pretending he could, so what was the point in hiding from it? Paul knew he wouldn't want him sulking; he would've wanted him to go celebrate his life. Just because their relationship ended badly didn't mean Paul didn't love him. He did, so very much. Even more than he loved Linda at times.

Standing up, Paul shook the dirt from his clothes. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and followed the sounds of his wife and children, plucking a handful of flowers as he went.


End file.
